


101. Several deep breaths

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [73]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Movie: Resident Evil: Vendetta, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: The silence is deafening, almost painful in its intensity. Wrong. Just moments, seconds ago it was so loud, everything was loud, and now there's nothing, and Leon's heart aches because it'swrong.
Series: Dare to Write challenge [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/524521
Kudos: 6





	101. Several deep breaths

The silence is deafening, almost painful in its intensity. Wrong. Just moments, seconds ago it was so loud, everything was loud, and now there's nothing, and Leon's heart aches because it's  _ wrong. _

He drops to the—dirty, bloody, corpse-strewn—floor with a groan, and revels in the noises. The hallway is dark, but he can still see all too clearly, so he fixes his gaze on the opposite wall. That way he can almost pretend there isn't a deformed face staring at him inches from his left foot. It won't be moving again, won't be making any noises ever again. He made sure of that.

It's like it all hits him at once with that thought, and he makes a strangled sound as he bends forward, pulling his knees up to his legs, forcing back the scream rising in his throat. He can't breathe properly, but he has no mind to care about that, he's too busy forcing back—impressions, memories, visions, sounds, zombies coming at him, people, they were  _ people _ once, they were people just hours ago, they can be saved,  _ they can be saved _ , but he has to do it, he knows what he has to do, and his scream is drowned out by theirs, becomes one with the cacophony of screams and groans and gunshots around him and— _ everything _ .

Absently he can feel the hard ridges of his pistol, and reflexively his fingers twitch, tightening around the firearm quickly before relaxing again. And suddenly it feels so heavy, too heavy, he can't believe he has the strength to hold it, his fingers are too weak-

The clatter with which it drops to the floor makes him flinch, but no other sounds follow. No bodies twitch, no zombies run out from some corner. Nothing happens. There's only the silence, broken by his own heaving gasps.

He leans his forehead against his knees and closes his eyes. There are tremors going through his arms, traveling through his whole body, and he buries his hands in his hair roughly, gritting his teeth as he pushes his head harder against the unyielding bones. He wishes he had the flask in his hand, a comforting weight to go with the burn of its contents as it runs down his throat. It's in his inner pocket, he knows. So close. So easily accessible. The silence wouldn't be as bad with its help.

_ What a sight he must make, _ comes the unbidden, poisonous thought, freezing the hand reaching for his jacket.

What a sight he must be. Sitting in a dark hallway, feeling sorry for himself while elsewhere people are dying. While he's letting himself wallow in self-pity Chris is somewhere in the very same building fighting his ass off, risking his life in order to procure the cure for this whole mess. And Leon's just doing  _ nothing _ .

He sees it, all too clearly. Sees the people down on the streets, transformed and made to commit horrors from which they'll never recover if they were aware. Hears the crying and screaming and begging of those not transformed, as their world turns into a nightmare. Chris, thundering through corridors and up stairs, nothing but determination in his eyes, set in his path—he'll either defeat Arias and get the cure, or he'll die trying.

And there Leon is, planning to drink it all away, dull himself so he can pretend nothing's happening.

His hand shakes. He feels it. He feels the desire to grab the flask, the desperation flaring up. The bodies around him can't be ignored, but he  _ wants _ to. He wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to have to do this, make these choices, sacrifice everything over and over and over again, until there's nothing left of him, nothing but the exhaustion and the alcohol.

The pain is immediate as he slams his clenched fist down on the floor, but Leon doesn't feel it.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. He  _ is _ there now, so he has no choice. There are people who need him, and he will keep on giving of himself even when there's nothing left, because that's all he  _ can _ do. The alcohol and peaceful hotel room will have to wait.

He has a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [tumblr](https://tveckling.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/tveckling)~


End file.
